


he says i'm his favorite flavor (doesn't mind my bad behavior)

by umathurwin



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: F/M, Recreational Drug Use, ages aren't rly specified but then again if that concerned you why watch the show....., but if you’re an elite who ships topper / sarah this is for you my kings n queens, i’m sorry if this is much more heinous than i remember i also don’t proofread, jj is a lovable idiot, john b and the reader are a total power couple but at the expense of sarah cameron, john b is super dominant this is my headcanon, kie and pope where are y’all???, maybe don’t read this if you ship john b / sarah because this will just rly upset you, most of the time i write high out of my mind so i don’t remember typing half of this, smut ensues, there’s no cheating just general toxic behavior, you’re his ex and you’re back in town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umathurwin/pseuds/umathurwin
Summary: John B inhaled sharply through his teeth, shaking his head. “Oh… about that… I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me. That’s not my favorite color anymore.”You fake-gasped, bringing the comb to your chest. “No! What is it now? Magenta?”He pulled his phone out of his pocket to reveal the emerald plastic case. “It’s green now.”“Oh? Is it?”“It is.”You wordlessly reached into your bag and pulled out a comb remarkably close in shade to his own phone case.“Goddamn, you’re just prepared for everything, aren’t you?” he breathed, shaking his head and plucking the comb from your grip. “It’s something I missed about you.”***You’re John B’s ex, and you’re back in town for a bit after moving to California. Sarah is reasonably a little uneasy about your visit.
Relationships: John B. Routledge/Reader, John B. Routledge/You
Kudos: 15





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> i was working on two OBX fics and i wanted to post this one second, but the more i worked on it, the more it wrote itself ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. this one is set around ~s1e7! also, if you want a happiness and butterflies fic, turn back now, because you and john b are MAD toxic in the following text. i warned u!! :*
> 
> title is from ridin' by lana del rey and a$ap rocky

Your phone buzzed in your pocket—it was your dad. _I just ordered dinner, could you be home in 15?_ That worked; you were about 5 minutes away from his car and about the same away from your home, so you could leisurely make it back there. You texted back a quick confirmation and sipped the vanilla Italian cream soda you got from that local café.

It had been a _long_ time since you’d strolled down the boardwalk in Figure Eight. San Diego was fun, but deep down, your roots were in the East Coast. You missed the culture, the stores you could only find there, and sometimes even the obnoxious class divide. Your upper middle-class family let you float easily between the two groups, but it never flew over your head how unfair and arbitrary it was. At least in California, _everyone_ was elitist and rude, so there weren’t any surprises or divisions.

The store next to you shut its lights off, spooking you. Must be closing time. You held the straw carefully between your teeth, focusing on not letting the heels of your AF1’s scuff on the ground. Who could you call, who did you know here? Whose numbers did you not delete in the two and a half years you were gone?

“Cali? Is that you?” you heard from behind you. You spun around, nearly tripping over yourself and scanning for the source. Your eyes landed on a picnic table with some kids you definitely recognized.

“JJ!” you said excitedly, jogging over to the table without thinking. You unfortunately forgot a major rule of thumb known around most of the Cut—where there’s JJ, there’s…

“John B?”

“Wow,” the dark-haired boy blurted, watching you come to a halt a few feet away from the group. “Hey there.” He was sitting on the tabletop, eyes wide, hands glued to his knees. The buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing his toned, dark chest. Damn, he’d aged well. His hair was growing out, clearly, and fell into his face in loose locks.

You were staring; it was obvious enough to be interrupted by the extremely pretty girl sitting at his feet. “Who’s this?” she asked, carefully eyeing you. You struggled to remember her name—Sam? Sandra? Sarah? Yeah, that’s right, the little rich girl.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, waving with your two middle fingers and sipping from your drink.

“This is… my ex-girlfriend,” John B muttered, not tearing his eyes away from you.

Sarah’s face contorted in shock as JJ and Pope burst out snickering. “Oh!” Sarah blurted, gaze switching between you and John B.

“Yep,” you confirmed, avoiding looking at your own ex. “Been too long, huh? I’m visiting my dad for the next few days and figured I’d revisit some old spots. I guess I didn’t think old people would be in those old spots.”

“’Old people’?” Pope rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who left. Technically _you’re_ the old people.”

“Great point,” you nodded, shaking the ice in your plastic cup. “I really missed your brains. That’s why I sat next to you in English all throughout middle school.”

His jaw dropped. “I thought you said you liked talking with me about the books we were reading!”

Even JJ scoffed at his epiphany. “C’mon, dude. It was _The Outsiders_. No one liked reading _The Outsiders_.”

“That was an amazing book! I’m actually so hurt right now,” Pope defended, shaking his head.

“Well, if y’all want to continue this book club another time, please let me know,” you interrupted, checking the time on your phone. “But I should be getting back. It was great seeing you all.” The last sentence was just a bit _too_ pointed at John B, but you walked past the group before you had to sit in anymore tension.

That… was awkward. If Sarah had even a shred of jealousy, it wouldn’t be completely unfounded. See, you and John B didn’t break up by choice—your parents went through a really straightforward divorce during your sophomore year, and your mom decided to pull you out of the Outer Banks and move across the country to California with her side of the family. The change was a dunk in an ice bath; your parents split up, you lost your boyfriend, and you were at a new home and school within two weeks.

But you toughed it out. Chilled out and learned to blend in with the West Coasters. You managed to finish off the remainder of your high school career with a whole new group of friends. It was finally the summer after your senior year, and you were hoping to spend the whole time kicking it with your friends.

Of course, though, nothing in your life ever goes as planned. One morning, over a breakfast of overnight oats, your mother announced it was time you spend a few days back home with your dad. It had been ages since you’d gone back east, since _he_ was the one who visited you for major holidays and whatnot. She didn’t even give you a chance to protest; she’d already gotten the flight ready and all. A wrench may have been thrown in your plans, but you decided that maybe a few days in your old stomping grounds would do you some good.

And, well, let’s hope you weren’t wrong.

***

“Oh, hell yeah, Antonio’s!”

Jeez, how long had it been since you’d had pizza from back home? You greedily grabbed two paper plates, frisbee-ing the other towards your father haphazardly. “Since when did you pick up this swearing habit?” he chastised, gracelessly catching the plate and holding it to his chest.

You were frozen with a slice of pizza half-shoved in your mouth. After tearing off the bite and swallowing it down, you finally answered, confusion lacing your voice. “Do you mean… ‘hell’?” You took your plate over to the counter and slid up onto the barstool.

“Those West Coasters have really changed you, huh?” he shook his head, grabbing a slice for himself and carefully setting it on his plate.

You laughed. “Believe me, they’re the exact same over there as they are here. Surfers, spoiled kids, bourgeoisie scum, it’s all the same all over the country.”

“You sound just like your mother,” he noted, pouring ranch onto his plate. “So, you’re here until Sunday?”

“Yessir,” you said with a bite of pizza in your mouth. Obnoxious.

He wrinkled his nose at your gauche behavior. “Well, I can’t wait to spend time with you—”

“Speaking of,” you interrupted, swallowing thickly. “Could I actually hang out with some of my friends while I’m here?”

Your dad looked a bit disappointed. “You’re only here for a few days!”

“I wanna spend time with you!” you insisted. “But you’re not the only thing I miss from here.”

He rolled his head from side to side. “I suppose you’re about to be an adult and deserve a bit more freedom. How about this: we spend the whole day tomorrow, then we see each other when we see each other for the weekend?”

“That works for me,” you smirked, watching him carefully lift the ranch-covered pizza up to his mouth.

***

Once your dad had conked out for the evening, you had several hours before you would come close to tired. Your dad did manual labor during the day, so he was out before the sun had even started to set. Combine that with your terrible jetlag, and you got a shit ton of time to yourself.

Your room was super bare—clearly just a guest room in your absence. You took no offense; why keep a room up to date for someone who was never there? Your comfy pink duvet back home was sounding really nice as you cringed at the thin white blanket draped over your old mattress.

The only thing that had survived in your absence was a corkboard on your wall, covered in photos from Pinterest and a couple Polaroids of you and your old friends. You hadn’t taken it home in fear of damaging or misplacing the pictures, so it was like a little time capsule of the last time you were here.

You flicked the lamp on your bedside table on to get a better look at the photos—you were so young. There were pics of you and your friends cramped into backseats of cars, running on the beaches, toasting Smirnoff Ices and then linking your arms to chug them. The nostalgia hit you like a wave. You hadn’t even spoken to any of the people featured in the photos in years and yet it felt like it was just weeks ago.

Your thoughts were cut short by the vibration of your phone, amplified by the wooden nightstand it rested on. You nearly jumped out of your skin—why did you even have it off silent anyways? It was John B. _Book club already?_ you thought to yourself.

But really, why was he calling you so soon? “Hey there!” you chirped awkwardly after answering the call, shaking your head and rubbing at your temple.

“Y/N! Hey!” he replied. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, y’know. Just at home. Doing nothing. What’s going on with you?”

“I… need a favor, actually,” John B admitted, his voice laced with that old laugh you missed so much. “Tomorrow, I wanna surprise JJ with a surfing trip, but I haven’t changed out the wax on our boards in way too fucking long.” It was like he had to say it all in one breath.

You paused for a moment, waiting for more context. When you didn’t get any, you squeaked out, “And?”

“And he’s the one who always does it for me!” he breathed, almost sounding a bit annoyed. He was still impatient, you saw. “The last time I did it, I scratched his board and it took weeks for him to forgive me. Will you just help me out?”

The clock on your nightstand said it was only 7ish. “You mean to tell me I was gone for nearly _three_ years, and you never bothered to learn how to wax your board in all that time?”

“I can _wax_ the _board_ ,” he groaned, and you could picture him dragging his hand down his face in exasperation. “It’s removing it—that’s where I start to, y’know, cause damage. Can you just help me? Kie and Pope have to work tomorrow and it’s obviously JJ’s surprise.”

There was a missing character here; you weren’t stupid. But you chose not to question it as it’d been too long since you’d spent some one-on-one time with him, and you’d love a chance to show off your dad’s collection of wax combs. “Alright, alright,” you breathed, feigning reluctance. “I’ll be over in twenty.”

“Yes!” he cheered. “See you soon.” And he hung up.

You didn’t have much time to process what just happened, given your self-determined ETA. You simply had to take it for what it was; John B needed a favor from you, and you were just helping out an old friend.

Most of the stuff in the garage hadn’t been rearranged given that your dad avoided change like the plague. Finding your old surf gear was a breeze, and soon you were ready to dip out.

Getting out of the house was easy—the car was parked on the opposite side of the house as your dad’s bedroom. You left a note in the kitchen anyways about going to spend the night with a friend. If you made it back before his day-off sleep-in, you’d just throw the note out, and if you didn’t, your ass was covered.

What? You didn’t know what could happen.

***

You’d never driven to his house.

When you’d dated him, you were too young to drive, and he’d already gotten his van, so he was the designated driver. It almost felt weird, typing his address into your phone when you’d been there so many times before. Things started to feel really familiar by the last few turns, but the beginning of the drive was a jarring reminder that even though you’d been gone for so long, the town continued to grow and change in your absence. Once you’d parked the car in his yard, you jumped out, grabbing the bag and not even allowing a second to psych yourself out.

The front porch looked just like you remembered it. There was a chicken coop that must’ve been built after you’d left, but it was still the same cluttered-but-organized mess you missed.

You threw the front door open, not even bothering to knock. You were too comfortable here back in the day to be shy now. John B looked up from the couch, dropping a rag on the surfboard that lay on his coffee table. He stood up to give you a hug, which you tried to take as platonically as possible.

“I’ve been getting her ready. I used the hair dryer JJ left here to heat it up so it’s easier to remove,” he explained, gesturing towards the light blue board and grabbing beers for you two.

“Sweet,” you nodded, wrinkling your nose at the nasty ass board. Your eyes flicked up to the wood paneled walls, covered in maps and photographs. Some were of John B and his family, some were of his friends, and there were a couple Polaroids of Sarah Cameron here and there. You gently shook your head and turned back to him. “So, while I’ve been gone, my dad has kept up with his Pogue roots and did not leave the beach bum life behind,” you grinned, digging in your drawstring bag.

“Love that man,” he kissed his fist. “Remember when we all went to Myrtle Beach and he ordered a bottle of rum for us from the hotel’s room service?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of _that_ hangover,” you groaned, throwing your head back. You plopped down on the couch, finally having a hold on what you wanted to show him. “Check it out, it’s even in your favorite color!” you winked, pulling out the baby blue comb and twirling it between your fingers.

John B inhaled sharply through his teeth, shaking his head. “Oh… about that… I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me. That’s not my favorite color anymore.”

You fake-gasped, bringing the comb to your chest. “No! What is it now? Magenta?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to reveal the emerald plastic case. “It’s green now.”

“Oh? Is it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow,

“It is.”

You wordlessly reached into your bag and pulled out a comb remarkably close in shade to his own phone case.

“God _damn_ , you’re just prepared for everything, aren’t you?” he breathed, shaking his head and plucking the comb from your grip. “It’s something I missed about you.”

He was being extremely casual, not even looking at you while he said it, but the words still set off butterflies in your stomach. “Since I’ve got two, you can watch and learn,” you changed the subject, trying not to let your giddiness leak into your voice. You twisted open the top of your drink and brought it to your lips. “Honestly, I think your main issue is your ego.”

“My _what_?” he spat, caught off-guard.

“See, you try to prove to everyone how strong and macho you are, and it leads to you stripping paint off with a little plastic wax comb,” you clarified, spinning the comb between your fingers and taking a drink. “If you’d just be a bit less… aggressive about it, you’d be golden.”

“First of all, it’s not my fault JJ used cheap paint.” John B turned to the board. “And if I’m such an _ape_ who can’t control his grip, why don’t you show me exactly how to do it?”

“Fine,” you deadpanned. You set your bottle down, climbed onto the couch, and took ahold of his comb hand with your right hand, slinging your left arm around his shoulder. “Light touches, see?” you whispered into his ear as you guided his hand to the board. “Press, and pull all the way down. No need to be so rough.” Okay, that last bit was definitely crossing the line into seductive, but you made up for it by immediately removing your touch from him and working on the board with your own comb.

“You’re really an amazing teacher,” he muttered as he gently scraped off the bumpy, discolored wax.

Once the two of you had cleaned off the board in silence, you threw your empty bottle in the trash and reached into your bag for the finishing spray. John B collected and disposed of the old wax, returning with a tub of Sex Wax to redo his board.

“Gah, I miss the smell of that,” you noted, letting your eyes flutter shut. You diligently rubbed the spray in with a cloth you brought.

“I love it, too,” John B smirked, twisting the lid off and digging his fingers in. “You surf over there in Cali?”

“Oh yeah. It’s pretty different, though, they surf mostly in the summer and half naked. Here it’s mostly in the winter and we bundle up. Also, the waters are warmer over there, but the waves feel the same to me.” You stood up, grabbing the dirty rag. “It’s actually more of the rich kid thing to do, though. Definitely the opposite of here.”

“Are you calling me poor?” he joked, liberally applying the wax to the smooth surface.

You ignored his comment. “You still leave a bald spot?” you asked, rinsing the rag in the kitchen sink and peering over the counter into the living room.

“Fuck no,” he blurted, making you raise an eyebrow. “I wiped out when I was like 16 and I _swear_ I died for a few minutes. If my board had been just a little more tacky, I wouldn’t have fallen,” he shook his head, continuing to drench the entire board. “Better to have it and not need it, y’know?”

“No kidding,” you muttered, wringing the water out of the rag. “Be right back.”

John B paid you no mind as you slipped out to the porch to inspect JJ’s bright red surfboard. The wax looked perfect, almost as if it’d been changed after his last surfing trip rather than been left out to get dirty or had more wax piled on. Hmm, almost suspiciously responsible for that kid.

You threw the door open again. “I just checked JJ’s board and the wax looks super great. No need to change it out,” you announced to John B, who had migrated to the kitchen. He spun around as you joined him.

“Guess that means our work is done!” he threw his hands up, then wiped them off on the wet rag you’d just cleaned.

“Well, it _actually_ means he’s a more responsible surfer than you,” you tsked.

“Oh, no, don’t give me attitude now. I’m not getting my dick sucked in order to tolerate that.”

“You’re such a man.” There wasn’t a lot of space between you two anymore, and this felt… _too_ normal. Backtrack! “I hope you and JJ have a good time tomorrow.”

“Ah, we will. I really appreciate all your help, by the way,” he sighed, handing you a beer. “I wasn’t sure who to call, and I’m glad to see that you’re still there for me after all this time.”

You used the bottom of your shirt to twist the top off the bottle. Now was as good a chance as ever to clear up the air. “So… why didn’t you call Sarah?”

“Because she’s a Kook,” he blurted, suddenly freezing before taking a sip of his beer. “Y’know what? That word still sounds too much like a slur. It’s just… not her world. She hates when I surf—she thinks it’s dangerous and uncouth.”

“Well,” you shrugged, taking a big swallow (or two) of your drink. “Regardless, I’m glad I could be of service. Feels good to go back to my roots.”

“Good t’have you back here,” he mumbled around another drink.

There was still one question nagging on your mind. “Hey, I have something to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“Where… is your dad?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, and you were suddenly very nervous you’d crossed a line. In the past, John B’s father had been a dodgy and irresponsible guy, and if something had happened in the time you were gone, he might not want to talk about it. “He’s… been gone. He went to finish some task and didn’t return, but I’m sure he’ll come back.”

A small breath left you. “Oh. Sorry for asking,” you squeaked out.

“Ah, don’t apologize,” he waved you off, “I’m probably gonna have to finish it for him, anyways.”

“Well, best of luck with that,” you hummed genuinely, chugging down the rest of your bottle. You didn’t intend to have so much in one swig, but you’d underestimated the volume of liquid left in the bottle. Some beer streamed down your cheeks and John B watched as you scrambled for a clean dish rag to wipe your face off. By the time you turned around, he was already handing you another full bottle, still beading with condensation. There was a matching one in his other hand.

“ _Another_ beer?” you squeaked out. “ You see me struggling here, right? I’ve already had two, and I’ve gotta—”

“Don’t worry about it,” John B reassured, placing the bottle in your hand before you could protest and returning to the couch with you pitifully trailing behind. “Just tell your dad you’re crashing at a friend’s place, and you can sleep on my couch.”

Well. You already _did_ have that plan set up for your dad, so it didn’t really take a lot of convincing on his part. “Fine. Can you open mine?”

He grabbed the beers and effortlessly opened both of them with his bare hand. He must have sick callouses. “Since you’ve been asking so many questions this evening, let’s play a drinking game. It’s like truth or drink, but you _have_ to answer the question and we drink anyways,” he suggested excitedly, handing you your bottle and nearly spilling the bubbly liquid onto his couch, not even seeming to notice.

His mannerisms were so cute. You really missed it. “Hmm, where’d you get this game?”

John B shrugged, running his pointer finger around the rim of his bottle before taking a drink. “From a friend. It’s a lot of fun.”

You rolled your neck from side to side and took a sip. “I dunno… those kinds of games usually devolve into being sexual super quick.”

“Okay, so let’s make a rule. Only past tense questions if it’s sexual. Because that’s the point of being an ex, right? Everything is past tense?”

You sucked in through your nose sharply. “I… guess that makes sense.” To a tipsy brain. “Just try to keep things somewhat appropriate for as long as you can.”

“You got it, boss. You can go first.”

Oh, what an invitation. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone else?” you asked, flicking the neck of the bottle. Simple, easy start.

He thought hard for a moment, staring at the table. “I actually really like tofu.”

A sharp laugh burst out at the absurdity of his confession. “Wait, what?”

“See? This is why I don’t tell people,” John B sighed, throwing his hands up. “Kie’s mom made it in a stir fry with a delicious sauce and veggies and it was _spectacular_. I’d be crucified if my friends found out because it’s too hippie, or whatever.”

You blinked a couple times. “I wasn’t criticizing you! I’ve literally spent all this time in California, remember? Tofu is great, and it’s not _that_ hippie. Wait ‘till you hear about kale smoothies.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What _is_ California like? How are the kids at your school, how did they party?”

That was definitely a lot of questions, but you smiled when he mentioned partying. Classic John B. “Everything is expensive. It’s hard to get places. I didn’t see many famous people because I didn’t live in LA, but I _did_ once see Jason Earles at a 7/11. I didn’t ask for a photo… or talk to him. As for the kids, it wasn’t too different. Some rich kids, some poor kids, some kids in the middle. It just wasn’t very… I dunno, _aggressive_ between them like it is here. Annnd a lot of kids rage, drink, and smoke weed, a few don’t. There’s also a ton of bitches who do a lot of coke. And, of course, there’s the psychedelic kids. It’s a real blended mix.”

He was quietly admiring you as you rambled on. “Honestly sounds great. Do you like it?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question!” you joked, poking his side. He pulled away— still ticklish. “But because I’m not a jerk, I do, a lot. I’m going to college there, too.” Your drink was starting to taste better and better—not a great sign.

“That sounds great,” John B beamed, reaching for an unopened beer and opening it on the underside of his forearm without breaking eye contact. It was… hotter than it should’ve been.

“Have you ever hit someone with your van?”

He coughed out the drink he was in the process of taking. “Why are you asking that!?” he defended when he caught his breath, leaning away. “Do you think I’m some kind of terrible driver?”

“I mean, yeah, absolutely. But it’s also just a funny question.”

John B pursed his lips, focusing on the table and setting his bottle on it. “Well, yeah. I once _tapped_ Pope, and honestly, he was the only one not laughing.”

“Gee, I wonder why!”

John B’s phone, resting on the coffee table between you two, started ringing. It was comically loud, and the face on the screen was that of Sarah Cameron. He leaned over and declined the call, turning it face-down and switching the ringer off. “She’ll text me. I’ll get back to her later. Do you pee in the shower?” he asked, clearly trying to throw you off what had just happened.

That was… extremely awkward. But you figured that it would be better off to just humor him. “John B, everyone in the world pees in the shower. Or they’re lying. Or they’re some kind of essential-oil-chugging anti-vaxxer who believe that cow’s milk give you tumors, and they’re scared the uric acid will give you chemical burns.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I see you have a lot of passion about shower-pissing.”

“Am I wrong, though?” you insisted, draining your own beer.

“Not at all,” he hummed. “Your turn to ask me something.”

“What do your favorite pajamas look like?” you asked without hesitation.

“You ask really great questions,” he noted. “And it’s when I’m naked.”

“Okay, so that was your limit on questions that weren’t appropriate.” You rolled your eyes, getting up to toss your bottle out. You poked into his fridge to find an old White Claw that happened to be your favorite flavor. You knew for sure that it wasn’t John B’s, so it must be Sarah’s.

“Actually, the question was fine. My answer was risqué,” he clarified smugly as you cracked the tab open. He said nothing about you taking the can, boosting your ego a bit. It almost made you wonder what else he’d let you do. “But if you say the boundary’s already been crossed, I’m game.”

You sat back on the couch, facing him this time. You tucked your knees up under you and took a big swallow of your drink. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Who was the first guy in California you fucked?” he asked, oddly steady.

What a great start! You rubbed the bridge of your nose in shame. “Oh, God. It was this… okay, y’know what an e-boy was? He was that, but watered-down, like he was too scared to really commit. It just meant that he painted his nails black and had a nicotine addiction. Didn’t pierce his ears and wouldn’t smoke with me. _Huge_ cock, but he wasn’t a great kisser.”

“Ew, sorry I asked,” John B groaned, pinching his face up. “But really? He painted his nails?”

“Honestly, he totally pulled it off,” you said dreamily, drinking more. “He wore lots of rings, and it reminded me of Harry Styles. Super hot.”

“Don’t _I_ look like him?” he pouted, popping out his bottom lip and shaking his hair out into his face, undeniably leaning in.

“Good Lord, you sure do flatter yourself, don’t you?” you groaned, pushing his face away. You rolled your head from side to side thinking of another question. “Umm… have you ever cheated on anyone?”

“Yes.” That’s it. No inflection, no explanation.

Your jaw dropped. “What? Was it on me?”

“Fuck no!” he blurted, nearly surprised you’d even asked. “It was… I don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t feel great about it and it’s in the past. I answered you either way.”

“Fine, fine,” you backed off, side-eyeing him.

“Have you fucked a girl over there in Cali?”

“Wow!” You swirled the half-empty Claw in your hand, definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. “No, haven’t fucked any girls. I’ve made out with a few at parties, though, but deep down I lowkey did it to impress guys. I don’t think I’d be _too_ opposed to sleeping with one, I guess. I think I’d do a threesome first, to kind of test out the waters.”

“That’s hot,” he muttered, running his tongue between his lips.

“Does Sarah have good pussy?” you blurted, followed immediately by an annoying laugh and a matching hiccup. You didn’t wanna give him too much time to think about your answer to the last question, so you leaned in the same way he had earlier.

“That definitely breaks our rule!” he whined, pushing at you dramatically.

“Yeah, well, that’s my M.O.” Then, you leaned over and snatched the bottle from his hands. “Now the game is just truth. Tell me how she is in bed.”

“Mm, how do you want me to answer?” he groaned, dropping his head into one of his hands in shame. “Do you want, like, a comparison to other girls?”

Your nose scrunched up as you drank from his bottle as well. “Ew, no. Just on a scale of 1 to 10.”

“Uhh, like, an 8?”

“Okay, now pretend she’s your ex.”

“Six point seven… five.”

“Incredibly specific,” you nodded. “Damn, now I’m curious! Where am I on that scale?”

“Ten.”

“Fuck off, quit flattering me.”

“I’m not trying to. I know when and how to do _that_ , and exaggerating your performance in bed isn’t the way.” He was being serious, but shook his head and took his bottle back. “Just being honest.”

“I’m honored, then.”

John B kept going, though. “I still dream about it sometimes. It’s embarrassing, I’m not 14 anymore, but sometimes I wake up after imagining you riding my cock for hours. I remember you being so desperate and whiny and wanting to come so bad. You wouldn’t even think about getting me off or if I was enjoying it; it was like I was just some toy for you to finish on. Hottest shit I’d ever seen. No other girl has come even close to that level of confidence during sex. Thus, you’re the max on the scale.”

Your mouth was hanging open by the end of his little rant. You wanted to take his beer back from him again, but he’d already finished it without removing eye contact with you. “I—I asked you a lot of questions. It’s your turn,” you said softly.

John B drummed his fingers against the glass. “Favorite porn star and why?”

“Owen Gray,” you answered immediately. You figured John B got a chance to ramble on with horny thoughts, and now it was your turn. “He’s packing _and_ covered in tattoos, so that’s great right off the bat. But he’s also super passionate and really makes a connection with the girls he fucks. Makes you feel like you’re really there. I once watched a video where he fucked this girl to an O and once she came and started screaming and whatnot, I saw _his_ eyes roll back into his head. Like her pleasure was directly turning _him_ on. So hot.”

“O-kay! This one was on me, but we’ve gotta tone it down before I come in my pants,” John B stopped, holding a hand up and signifying your victory. The way he was adjusting himself on the couch made you giggle—was he even joking? “Try to ask something PG-rated this next time.”

You exhaled, thinking for a second. “Did you miss me while I was gone?” It was flirty, not really meant to be serious, but the history behind the question had a lot of unresolved emotions that probably shouldn’t have been poked at while so drunk.

John B took a deep breath, eyes poring over your face before answering. “More than you know.”

“What do you mean?” you leaned your head on your fist, propped against the back of the sofa. The vibe of the room had changed so quickly.

“It was… really hard for me when you left,” he admitted, rolling the empty bottle along his thigh. He’d tugged his shorts up as far as they would go, letting the glass cool the warm skin. “You meant a lot to me. I wish things hadn’t turned out the way they did.”

You carefully thought over his words before answering. “You never texted me.” You paused, really wanting to let him remember what happened. “I reached out, over and over, and you never responded. Even JJ and Kie texted me a few times. I was scared and alone in a new school, and my parents had just split up, all I wanted was some reassurance from y—”

“I didn’t know how to handle it!” he stopped you. “Fuck, you didn’t just lose me. I lost you.” You froze; this was the first time you two were addressing this since you’d left, and your heart was about to leap out of your chest. “I was so damn numb after you left, I didn’t eat or sleep for weeks.” He took a deep sigh, leaning forward to set the bottle on the table. “In hindsight, I know it wasn’t your fault, but I’d just lost someone I loved and the only person I could find responsible or be mad at was… well, you.”

You paused, popping the thin metal of your can in and out. “You loved me?” you squeaked, not daring to look at him.

John B laughed lightly, rolling his neck from side to side. “Of course I did. I said so, didn’t I?”

You nodded solemnly, remembering that evening. He blurted it after being intimate, and you’d written it off as his post-nut clarity. You were kids, and he was full of hormones, it was easy to just laugh it off and kiss the tip of his nose. “Yeah, but—”

“Sometimes, I think… I still do.”

The way your head snapped over to him was completely involuntary. Your bodies didn’t have much space between them, and he’d leaned in so close you could hear the soft breaths leaving his nose. His eyes fluttered down to your lips, and there was an undeniable force pulling you into him. Alarms suddenly went off in your brain, making you jerk back and shake your head.

“John B, you should…” you looked around the living room, littered with bottles. “We should stop. We’re too drunk and probably saying things we shouldn’t.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, almost too easily. “We should get to bed.” He stood up without waiting for your response, tugging on your arm to lift you up as well. John B guided you down the short hall to the last room, his bedroom. You were a bit too wasted to object to the relocating, but when he was getting comfy on his mattress, you stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I… definitely think this is a bad idea,” you laughed, looking around in his room, trying to absorb what was different since you’d left, but also not get too comfortable with being in there.

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Y/N,” he insisted with a heavy slur over his words, rubbing the back of his neck.

You tried really, really hard to continue protesting, but the alcohol in your body was starting to take a toll on your ability to stay awake. His bed looked _so_ comfy, with soft sheets and thick pillows you wanted to smack your tired face on. If you stayed until you were sober to drive home, it’d be your dad’s paper-thin sheets in that cold guest room. “Fuck it.”

Without a second thought, you tugged at the band of your athletic shorts and let them drop to the floor, hopping into his bedroom. You were in a sports bra, so you didn’t bother wrangling that off your torso and made yourself comfortable between his sheets and duvet.

He’d watched you in awe and decided to tug his t-shirt off from the back of his neck and joined you. When he naturally reached out for you, you had to push him down. “Easy, tiger. Someone has a girlfriend.” It came out _so_ slurred you were speaking in cursive, but he took the hint and slithered away.

“Okayyyy. G’night,” he purred, rolling over and almost immediately starting to snore. Good to see he had some respect for boundaries, even if it was probably because he was just too tired to keep trying.

Well. You could process all that later. Sleep now.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the night after you stayed over at John B's place. It's party time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the perspective to third-person omniscient but it mostly follows John B. You'll never catch me using first-person bc I actually respect my readers :* bone app the teeth

“What the _fuck_?!”

What a lovely thing to wake up to, no? It really sucked—he was so comfortable, too. There was a nice, warm body in his arms, he’d luckily slept through his hangover, and the cracked window was letting in a smooth breeze that cooled off his skin. It wasn’t until he remembered exactly _which_ warm body was in his arms that he realized why he might be shouted at.

Sarah was standing in the doorway, face pink. “What is _she_ doing here?” she cried, pointing at Y/N, who had leaped off the bed gracefully and was already tugging her shorts back up and her shoes on her feet.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he blurted, waving his hands to calm her down. “She helped me with waxing my board a-and we got too drunk so she slept over. Nothing happened.”

“You needed help with your goddamn surfboard and you went to _her_ first?” she whined, face getting even brighter. Honestly, it wasn’t even the most heinous thing in his explanation. “You know I don’t even like you on the water at all!”

“I’m outta here,” Y/N groaned, grabbing her phone and pushing between Sarah and the doorway. John B smacked his face internally, now that he’s lost the only thing keeping Sarah from tearing a door off its hinges.

Sarah breathed angrily with a dead stare for the next for moments, but once the front door to John B’s home slammed shut, she went back to blowing up. “ _How could you do this”_ and “ _you’re a man whore_ ” and “ _I hate you_ ” were just some of the things she was screaming at him.

When there was finally a long enough break in her shouting, he finally spoke up. “Sarah, I’m _sorry_ —”

“No!” she interrupted. “Forget this. I knew my gut feeling was right. We are done!” And with that, Sarah stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Moments later, he heard the front door slam too.

Well, that fucking sucked. If he’d known he’d get that verbal ass-whipping, he would’ve tried something last night.

***

“And then Sarah left. Shut the door real loud too,” John B explained, throwing the van in park and digging the keys out of the ignition.

He and JJ jumped out of the vehicle, grabbing their bags and throwing open the back door to provide some kind of table top to get ready on. “Bro, that blows. Did you at least get to—?”

John B already knew where he was going. “Nope. Wasn’t even worth it.”

His blonde buddy stretched out, reaching his arms up and letting out a little squeal. “Gah, you’re just not lucky, hmm?”

“You’ve got no idea,” he grumbled. “At least I managed to get the boards waxed.”

“Thanks for waxing mine, by the way,” JJ noted, shooting finger guns. “And don’t worry, I’ve got a plan!” JJ dropped his basketball shorts to the ground, leaving him in his boxer briefs. God, this kid was too comfortable around him. “There’s gonna be a big Kook party tonight. Lots of people, lots of substances, no thoughts about crazy ex-girlfriends.” He grabbed his suit out of the bag in the van and fluffed it out, finding where to step into.

“A Kook party?” John B questioned, digging through his bag to find the low-SPF sunscreen. “You mean, the kind my recent ex-girlfriend would absolutely attend?”

“I can promise you she won’t be there. One hundred percent.”

He paused, holding the sunscreen he’d been looking for. “How?”

“It’s at Topper’s house.”

John B barked out a laugh. “You’re out of your mind,” he shook his head, shaking the yellow bottle in his hands. “You wanna go to a party at _Topper’s_ place? That’s risky as fuck, in addition to just being stupid.”

“You think I give a shit who’s hosting it?” JJ scoffed, tugging his springsuit up his body. “Their houses are massive, and they’re on shitloads of drugs. They wouldn’t notice if Kanye West showed up.”

“Not a bad point,” John B mulled, rubbing the sunscreen on his forehead.

“And I can make sure Y/N goes,” JJ ribbed, jumping to get the suit all the way on. “Bet that’d be a nice distraction from today.”

“You really are the devil on my shoulder, huh?” he shook his head, trying to rid of the smile that thought gave him.

“What about that made me a devil?” the blonde boy defended, zipping himself up. “You’re single. Your ex-girlfriend is in town. We have a great opportunity to mooch off the Kooks’ bud supply and you can get your dick wet in one solid swoop. Tell me how I’m not the angel on your shoulder.”

John B leaned over, grabbing the sides of JJ’s face and planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re an angel. Now let’s go hit the water, hmm?”

***

No matter how many times he’d see it, it will always throw John B off to see the girls he goes to school with do coke lines off dirty coffee tables. Like, five months ago, he was in a Socratic seminar with Claire from English, and now she’s wiping her nose off with the back of her hand and checking for blood.

It wasn’t easy to enjoy the night when it felt like he was constantly looking over his shoulder. To help loosen himself up, he pushed his way to the kitchen to pour himself a Jack and Coke, reaching over the crowded kitchen island. Just barely over the Megan song playing, he heard his name. It was JJ, waving dramatically despite being only ten feet away.

“So, I may have fucked up,” JJ slurred, jogging over, looping an arm around John B and tugging him out of the kitchen, down the hall.

“What did you do?” John B groaned, trying to walk fast enough to keep up with his friend’s grip around his neck and also not spill his beverage.

“Remember how I guaranteed Sarah wouldn’t be here?” His toothy grin finished his news delivery for him, and a huge pit formed in JB’s stomach.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Kie told me she’s maybe gonna try getting back with Topper, but that’s still great news!” the blonde boy insisted, pressing his fingers against John B’s chest and breathing too much into his ear.

“How?” John B finally forced him to stop just before they re-entered the living room, and took a big swallow of his drink.

“It means that since they’re together, if we play it carefully, we won’t see either of them!”

John B shook his head. Well, maybe that made sense in JJ’s brain. “Where’s Y/N now?” he called over the music, which had switched over to Mo Bamba. Kinda yesterday, but whatever.

“She just went outside with George,” he smiled.

“Your weed dealer?!” Good shit, could this kid do anything right?

“Yeah! He’s gonna smoke her out for sure,” JJ reassured confidently with his annoying laugh.

John B leaned over to see out the back patio, but there was a group of sophomores blocking the way. “ _Why_ are you saying this like it’s a good thing?” he asked, pressing his free hand against his temple.

“Didn’t you say that she gets—” he ribbed him with his elbow, “—in the _mood_ when she’s a little high? I was just loosening her up for you.”

“JJ, that’s gross,” John B groaned. But unfortunately, he was totally right. Before she’d left all that time ago, he would have to refrain from giving her weed or he’d run the risk of losing his next few hours. She’d be insatiable. “Thank you, though. I’ll buy you a beer next time I get a chance.”

His intoxicated buddy wandered off, probably to go mack on someone’s cousin, and John B made it his mission to find his ex-girlfriend. Weaving through the people was easy enough; he just kept his head low and avoided bumping into the nice leather furniture. Once he’d reached the sliding doors, it was onto the next leg of his journey.

See, Topper’s family home had a massive wrap-around porch that covered hundreds of square feet. He abandoned his half-empty cup on a patio table despite Kie’s voice in the back of his head chewing him out. There were kids everywhere doing varying degrees of narcotics, but Y/N and George were nowhere to be found.

 _Think_ , he repeated over and over in his head. If he wanted to get away from everyone on the porch but still be outside to spark up, where would he go?

Upstairs.

Of course, it was out of the way of others, and there was less wind to interrupt the smoke. He took the stairs two at a time, and as he suspected, the elevated portion of the porch was nearly empty. There were some noises coming from around the corner, with a laugh that definitely sounded familiar. His feet slid on the smooth floor like Scooby Doo as he ran around the corner, scaring the shit out of Y/N and George.

The punk ass dealer was lighting the bong for her as she delicately held her hair out of the flame, pulling a huge cloud. When he turned the corner, she jumped away guiltily as George scrambled to clear the smoke. Y/N coughed her lungs out, waving her hands around to disperse the smoke. “John B?” she choked out.  
“I really need to talk to you,” he blurted, leaning over and grabbing her forearm, lifting her from the outdoor sofa and guiding her inside. “I just gotta borrow her,” he called after to George, despite having no intention of returning her.

“John B, what the hell are you doing?” she whined, clearly wanting to just get high.

“I’ll explain in a second—” he tried to write off, but she was having none of it.

“No,” she stopped in the hallway. “Right now, tell me what’s going on. What happened this morning?”

He looked to both sides, checking to see if the hall was empty before sighing. He stopped to take a look at her, noting her shiny lips and soft yellow sundress that hugged her waist. “Sarah, she… she broke up with me,” John B breathed, running a hand through his thick hair. “Will you j—”

He didn’t even have to finish his sentence, she’d already lunged up and kissed him. He deepened it without hesitation, relishing in her taste mixing with the weed. John B licked into her mouth greedily, pushing his knee between her thighs and grabbing at her waist.

Y/N broke the kiss, the separation making a little noise like biting a peach. “We should find a room,” she breathed, looking up at him through her lashes. He grinned—he couldn’t help it.

John B grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall. He checked room after room; just closets, an office, and a bathroom. Fuck Topper’s family and their excessive rooms. Finally, he caught a glimpse of a bed, and after making sure no one was in there, he pulled her inside.

The lack of soul in the room indicated that it was clearly a guest room. But he didn’t care, and she obviously didn’t either, as she was already attached to his neck and desperately biting at the flesh by the time he shut and locked the door behind them. “Uh-uh, no marks. We’re nearly adults now,” he chastised, pulling her off by the back of her head and ignoring her pleading eyes. She attempted to unbutton his shorts, but he swatted her hands away. “Behave! It’s been way too long since I’ve gotten the treat of being in your pussy. Let me take control, hmm?” Y/N nodded obediently, waiting for what to do.

John B stepped back to lean against the door, pulling her body snug against his. He kissed her again, getting handsy all over her body but ignoring the places she wanted him most. Eventually, he pushed her down to her knees and tugged down his shorts without undoing anything. He allowed her to reach inside his boxers despite his previous commands for her to keep her hands to herself, since he was getting just as antsy as she was. In fact, she was so desperate, she just pulled it out altogether.

She gazed in awe the same way she did the first time all those years ago, and it’d only grown since then. It was greedy, almost, how fast she started dragging her tongue along the head and sucking on it. “Mm-mm, nope, don’t tease like that.”

He’s never been patient. He grabbed a handful of her hair from the back of her head and guided her small mouth down his cock, only stopped by her hands planted on his covered thighs. “Holy _fuck_ ,” he groaned, throwing his head back and letting it thump against the door.

Y/N took him down all the way down her throat, her nose buried in the dark curls at the base of his cock. Hearing him suck in air only encouraged her; she tried her best to move her tongue against his shaft with minor success. She choked out noises around him, making him involuntarily thrust forward and silence her.

She pulled off, causing John B to sigh dramatically, but she didn’t stop. She tilted her head and licked all the way from the base to the tip, not breaking eye contact.

He yanked her off by her hair, leaving a thick strand of saliva connecting her mouth and the head of his cock. “Fuck, I missed that. No one can choke on me like you do, hmm?” He dragged his thumb along her bottom lip, collecting the spit and precum that had gathered there. John B pushed his thumb between her lips, pressing down on her tongue and forcing a whine out of her. “Hush. Get on the bed.”

She was so eager, jumping up and on the bed, letting the bottom half of her dress flutter around her. He pulled his shirt off by the back of his neck and joined her, pumping his cock a couple times.

John B kissed down her neck. “You look so pretty in this little dress,” he whispered over her collarbones and exposed chest. “But I’m gonna take it off.”

She nodded, letting him tug it up and off her body. Once it disappeared, he immediately dropped down to lick her breasts and gently bite her nipples. She preened into him, but he left her touch to pull down his shorts and underwear. His hands went right back to her waist, pulling her down and pressing her core against his hard cock. The only thing separating them was her thin underwear, and he could already feel how wet she was.

John B guided her legs to wrap around his torso, lining up his cock with her covered center. He leaned down to suck on her tits as he ground into her sensitive clit.

Meanwhile, she was absolutely enjoying herself. The music downstairs was so ridiculously loud, she had no reason to be quiet, and he’d locked the door anyways. They had the freedom to fuck however they pleased.

Eventually, he tugged down her underwear, leaving her naked. He dropped down a little to spread her lips and lick a fat stripe from her hole to her swollen bud. Her back arched pathetically, but he planted a hand firmly on her. “Stay still,” he ordered before dropping down and going to town on her core with his mouth.

A deep, quiet moan left her, her fingers digging into his scalp as he nuzzled her, sucking her clit and coating his chin with her juices. He groaned against her, sending vibrations through her cunt, pleasure coursing in her veins. Her hips rocked into his face, struggling to get more friction from his tongue.

Eventually, he pulled off, making her whine a bit. “Mm, how about you ride my face?” he hummed, rubbing his cheek against her thigh. She looked a bit unsure, but he encouraged her by leaning back and gesturing for her to get up. Even when they dated, she was a bit shy about this position, so it was up to him to make her feel more secure about it.

“That’s it,” he reassured, laying back and helping her straddle his torso and work her way up. Once she was just over his mouth, he placed his hands on her thighs again and pulled her right down onto his tongue. This angle was so much easier to lick and suck over her clit, in addition to watching her clutch the headboard and throw her head back.

It wasn’t long before she lost every hint of insecurity, shamelessly grinding down onto his mouth, and he was _loving_ it. His endurance skyrocketed, and he got even messier pleasuring her with his tongue. Eventually, she came on his face, trembling and making noises he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

Once she came down and pulled her sensitive core away from him, he spoke up. “I’d love to see you do that again, and again, and again,” he admitted, kissing up along the soft skin inside her thigh until she leaned back, “but I don’t wanna waste any time before getting inside this cunt.”

Y/N placed her hands on the headboard and moved her body down such that her core was brushing against his cock. He lined himself up and pushed the thick head in—it was almost a challenge, but she was so wet he slid in regardless.

Eventually, she was completely nestled around him, resting on his lap with her walls pulsing around him. “Fucking, _hell_ , I missed this. You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

“Mm, I missed it, too,” she purred, lifting herself while squeezing her cunt at the same time and forcing a gasp out of him. “Y’know, I dream about times we’ve fucked, too.”

John B’s jaw was slack at her technique, but managed to reach up and intertwine the fingers on both of their hands while she rode his cock. “S’that so? What do you dream of?”

“The time you tied me up,” she whined, bouncing on him.

He shook his head, rubbing his thumb gently on hers. “Hmm, I did that to you quite a few times, doll. Can you be more specific?”

If she wasn’t so focused on her current goal, she’d glare at him. “When you used the vibrator!”

“Ahh,” John B smirked, letting go of one hand to grab at her tits. “I remember that. Do you even know how many times you came? You were in tears by the end of that, were you not?”

“Don’t sound so excited,” she grumbled, releasing his other hand and planting both of hers on his chest. “I might think you like seeing me break.”

“Mm,” he snickered, grabbing her waist tightly and slamming his cock up into her over and over. The noises coming from her were ethereal, and he only stopped when she started clawing at his forearms. He bottomed out and sat up, holding her carefully as he swapped their positions without pulling out of her.

He continued to roughly pound into her, but he leaned forward to push his thumb between her lips. She instinctively sucked on it, drenching the digit with her spit. He brought it back down to her clit where he rubbed soft circles, making her throw her head against the pillow.

“This pussy was made for me,” he breathed, wrapping his free arm under her waist and forcing her body against his bare chest. There wasn’t a hint of space between them. “No matter what, it’s always gonna be mine, y’hear that?”

“Yes,” she whined, digging her nails into his back.

“I missed this so much,” he continued. “Fits so well, wrapping around my cock just right. S’like heaven. Wish I could bury myself in between these thighs all day. Switch from my cock to my tongue. Make you scream for hours.”

His dirty talk was too much. Her eyes were starting to roll back into her head and her toes were curling; he could feel her walls flutter around him and this only spurred him on more.

“Fuck, are you seriously gonna come all over my cock? It’s been so long since I’ve watched you fall apart just from me fucking you, stretching that little hole open. Once you finish, and you’re still shaking, can I fill you up? Can I come in this sweet pussy?” he purred, biting gently at the shell of her ear. His breath danced over her skin, sending chills down her body.

“Fuck, God—yes, please!” she cried, hands dropping to his hips to increase the speed of his thrusts. “Oh, holy f…” she went silent as she fell apart on his cock, much to his amusement.

Watching her second orgasm was enough to send himself over the edge, pushing all the way into her cunt and filling her up, cock twitching.

There was a heavy silence after they both came, and John B gently pulled out of her and rolled to the side. They lay naked together, panting but not saying anything for way too long.

“John B,” she squeaked, breaking the noise of just them two breathing. “I have a question.”

“Yeah?” he huffed out, stomach turning with nerves.

“How _did_ you end up with Sarah?”

There was a heavy silence covering the thick air as he scrambled to find an answer for her, coming up dry. How could he possibly answer that? How far back would he need to explain? “It’s honestly kind of a long story.”

“I just—” she cut herself off, sighing before she continued. “I mean, you know we couldn’t be more different, right?”

“I know—”

“And I don’t wanna come off as the weird jealous ex, because we literally _just_ had sex and I’m glad you could move on anyways, but… Sarah Cameron? Does she even _know_ you?”

“No,” John B answered without hesitation. “She really doesn’t. I’m not always the most... genuine around her, but it’s ridiculously easy to tell her what she wants to hear.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, and he looked over at her, seeing her run her tongue along her teeth. When he didn’t answer immediately, she raised an eyebrow. “John B. What did you tell that poor girl?”

He shook his head. “Remember my… first time?”

Y/N sighed. “Not _this_ again. Really? Like you didn’t give me enough shit about it back in the day? We _get_ it, you got too wasted at a rager and had a terrible drunk hookup, thus losing your V-card a solid two-and-a-half months before I lost mine to you. I promise you, virginity isn’t sacred enough for you to hold that over my head.”

“Well it is to her,” he shrugged. “I… may have fabricated my story a bit so that she’d see me in a more respectful light.”

“Ah, lemme guess—you told her it was doves and sparks flying, didn’t you? And I also bet you said it was with a tourist,” she guessed, tapping her chin in faux-deep thought. “It couldn’t be someone here, or she’d get jealous. Probably stalk ‘em. Am I right?”

“I really don’t miss you constantly being in my head,” John B glared despite her proud beaming. “But I _did_ say I met her at a party!”

“Mm,” she nodded. “Did she buy it?”

He spit out a laugh he was trying to hold in. “Yes. And… the church…”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “You did _not_! What the hell did you say?” There was almost a glint in her eye—was she… enjoying this?

“She asked if I’d brought other girls there.”

She tutted, shaking her head and popping her knuckles. “Honestly, that’s on her. Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers or lied to.”

“I don’t wanna say it’s too easy, ‘cause I don’t wanna jinx my chances when I go back to her.” John B inwardly groaned—why did he say that out loud? She was just too easy to talk to, even after all this time, but he didn’t need to remind her that he was going right back to his ex after fucking her.

But fortunately, Y/N was grinning. “Oh yeah? What’s your game plan?”

He exhaled through barely-parted lips. “Grovel at her feet for a few days. Deny the living shit out of anything. Maybe get her flowers.”

“Is that gonna work?” she hummed, leaning over to reach for her dress.

“Oh yeah,” he breathed confidently, tugging his shorts and boxers up. “She’s young, malleable. Like I said, I was her first, so she doesn’t wanna leave me, really.”

A smile crept up on her face. “Don’t get too cocky. I’m leaving right now, and you were my first,” she tsked while pulling the sundress back over her head and adjusting it on her body.

“’N you were my second,” he grinned back.

“Shut up. First is the worst, second is the best.” It was tricky standing up and putting her sandals back on with shaky legs, and he watched her with an amused face.

He tucked his arm behind his head casually. “Then I guess your ‘best’ is that West Coast bitch, huh?”

She sighed dreamily, staring at the ceiling. “Can’t believe you’re jealous over someone you don’t even know.”

John B scoffed, eyeing her as she twisted her hair up out of her face into a loose knot. “I think I know I don’t have to be jealous. You’re still mine, probably always will be.”

His words sent sparks to her core despite her multiple orgasms. But rather than turn away shyly like Sarah would, she leaned in and planted a wet kiss on his lips. “Careful. You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he pleaded, sticking his bottom lip out dramatically.

Y/N snickered and rolled her eyes as she snatched her phone off the nightstand. “Maybe I’ll see you next summer, John B,” she smirked, twisting the doorknob.

He sat up attentively as she stepped out of the room. “I’ll still be here, waiting,” he reassured, and the noticeable hesitation before the latch closed told him that she definitely knew.


End file.
